Quote

There is room in the halls of pleasure for a large and lordly train, but one by one we must all file on through the narrow aisles of pain.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

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Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Age: 68 †
Born: 1850
Born: November 5
Died: 1919
Died: October 30
Author
Poet
Writer
Janesville
Wisconsin
Room
Aisles
Rooms
File
Pleasure
Aisle
Pain
Files
Must
Halls
Narrow
Train
Large
Lordly

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It is never too late to begin rebuilding, Though all into ruins your life seems hurled For see! how the light of the New Year is gilding The wan, worn face of the bruised old world.
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I like the roar of cities. In the mart, Where busy toilers strive for place and gain, I seem to read humanity's great heart, And share its hopes, its pleasures, and its pain.
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Better to wait and yearn, and still to wait, And die at last with unappeased desire, Than live to be the jest of such a fate, For that is my conception of hell-fire.
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Between the finite and the infinite The missing link of Love has left a void. Supply the link, and earth with Heaven will join In one continued chain of endless life.
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When the heart grows weary, all things seem dreary When the burden grows heavy, the way seems long. Thank God for sending kind death as an ending, Like a grand Amen to a minor song.
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There is nothing we cannot live down, and rise above, and overcome.
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I was as pure as the morning When I first looked on your face I knew I never could reach you In your high, exalted place.
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I Love your lips when they're wet with wine and red with wicked desire.
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Let no man pray that he know not sorrow, Let no soul ask to be free from pain, For the gall of to-day is the sweet of to-morrow, And the moment's loss is the lifetime's gain.
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All roads that lead to God are good.
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Oh! not for the great departed, Who formed our country's laws, And not for the bravest-hearted, Who died in freedom's cause, And not for some living hero To whom all bend the knee, My muse would raise her song of praise - But for the man to be.
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Whatever is... is best.
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And the smile that is worth the praises of earth is the smile that shines through tears.
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Life is a garden forever in flower.
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While forced to dwell apart from thy dear face, Love, robed like sorrow, led me by the hand And taught my doubting heart to understand That which has puzzled all the human race.
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A poor original is better than a good imitation.
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O skies, be calm! O winds, blow free - Blow all my ships safe home to me! But if thou sendest some a-wrack, To never more come sailing back, Send any - all that skim the sea, But bring my love-ship home to me.
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Give her not greatness. For great souls must stand Alone and lonely in this little world: Cleft rocks that show the great Creator's hand, Thither by earthquakes hurled.
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I knew it the first of the summer, I knew it the same at the end, That you and your love were plighted, But couldn't you be my friend?
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There is no sudden entrance into Heaven. Slow is the ascent by the path of Love.
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